Seven Burnsides
by SecretsofPandora
Summary: Steve, Wesker, Claire. Trying to hold on to the past in his new life just doesn't cut it.


Steve stares out, carrying with him a soul that he still possessed, lacking the body he once was born in. His longing despairing look stained the grotesque features; the mark of a condemned man. But today, today would be a different.

He was promised a life with Claire.

Wesker had the power. He had the means and by god, he would be free.

_Finally._

Finally. And the burning tears scathed his eyes; puffy red blotches formed around his face giving him that indistinguisable guise. He moved lethargically, and as Wesker had often commented, he moved like one of those Racoon city zombies with at least some intelligence of the plaga victims. Steve no longer felt pain, he was too numb to feel anything. His only goal in life was to be with Claire.

His saviour from death gave him a photograph of Claire Redfield, leaning against her motorcycle, with her one hand clasped around her helmet and the other slightly reaching up to touch the straying strands of red hairs out of her pony tail.

There were no tears. But he found he could remember what they were once, even as his heavy heart beat slowly, methodically, like a noisy clock in slow motion magnified in one's ear.

The last vestiges of his memories were fading fast as Wesker kept giving him a powerful insulin, injecting different experimental drugs into him, saying that it would be for the better. That this would provide him generously with the knowledge that his pain would go away.

It did; and it had.

He could only remark that Wesker was good to him, in a father archetypical way, and as unique as his situation was, he could only nod in relief when his drugs were administered to him.

Wesker had come in to check on him, to find him trudgingly moving about in his large cell where he was entertained. As generous as a man Wesker was, he was without some kind of provision that kept his body well honed.

He could never be graced with a mirror. Never.

That would be too generous on Wesker's part. Not to mention, his keeper had told him that the day he would be provided with a reflection was the day his former self came back. His true reflection.

And try as he might, he had tried to look into the large tin cup that held water, try as he might, to glance at the double thick glass that kept him inside. He could see, very well, what he had become.

If a bio engineered weapon in the shape of young man could cry, it would have been Steve Burnside.

**Day 2: **

What was it that brought him to become awake? When his eyes were opening, slit by slit, the small openings markedly strained against his face. They felt like a thousand eyes, so tiny that he was looking through a kaleidoscope and he hated to wake.

Today was the day wasn't it?

Was that what Wesker promised?

He heard the sound of the bell, a million tiny pieces crashing against the iron plate whooshing through his head, back and forth and with pained effort, pulled his body into a sitting position.

He didn't want to look.

He hated to look at his hands. Or what now they've become, and yet he was grateful he had two arms and two legs. Didn't he see the other bio weapons? How they looked to be missing parts held together by a sticky substance?

In his mind, he could still remember a few things: Claire his love, Wesker the man who gave him power, and how to fight.

Still, even with those small things he kept in his memory, he was confused what the feeling he felt for Claire was. He was told by Wesker that Claire would be waiting for him when he returned.

Returned to what? His mind couldn't grasp it. He was tearing himself with insanity at the thought of finding what it was and why Claire was important?

His fingers thickly entwined in the thickened veins and dried blood held on to the fading photo of Claire. He kept it by his bed side. Or what looked like a bed.

He was told it was a bed. To sleep on. He didn't really sleep. He was put in a catatonic incubator when he was longer needed. But Wesker, like a father to him, told him that there were things he may need.

That was a picture of Claire.

Why did Wesker give him this?

He held his face in his hands, didn't feel the pain of those throbbing thickened fingers as it enclosed over a grotesque visage.

Today was the day, right?

Today was the day Wesker would give him the freedom to see Claire.

He waited like a man longing for life. Longing for a fight.

The lights above him turned on, causing him to remove his large fingers away from his multiple vision, giving him a glimpse of the B.O.W before him.

Wesker was there, behind the glass. With his sunglasses and his arms folded, leaning back a little, then, with a slight nod, he told steve in the intercom to prepare himself.

He was going to fight.

Will this make him see Claire again?

With some effort, he lugged his heavy body up, a terrible sound came from an opening that kept sharp teeth. But they weren't human anymore. Nothing about him was human. Except for parts of his brain.

Even that was fading fast.

He must find Claire.

But for what?

Steve lunged forward; his arms already out in front to grab hold of the larger foe. This one was considerably larger by a foot and thickly created with metal parts. As he tried to embrace his opponent, it had instead turned him about, slamming him into the ground with one swift powerful move. Because he could not feel the pain, only the numbness and the loud beating of his mechanical heart, he fully recovered by shoving his foot into the opponent, causing the larger foe to fall down with a loud crash. The metal parts of his body dented from the fall. Steve moved slow, slower than most B.O.W's but he was strong, so powerfully strong that one would think he would fall in an instant because he moved slow, but Wesker knew….he knew, that looks can be deceiving.

Another scientist stood by him. He had a clipboard in his hand and started to make notes. "At this rate, the new B.O.W. produced would be annihilated within an hour." He shook his head, distressed at the cost of losing another.

"Don't worry about it." Wesker drawled sternly; a satisfied smug look on his countenance. "Our costs will be replaced twofold. His body remarkably adjusts to all the drugs administered to him."

Another blow was heard as the two collided, metal against flesh, bone as strong as steel, capsized the enemy in another move. Hugging his opponent from behind, Steve shoved the B.O.W. up, tightened the grip as hard as he can, his grotesque face against the metallic coldness, and with a powerful downward thrust, impaled the enemy down. Metal pieces broke apart, coming apart from the seams, and the silent test subject was forced to crawl forward on his knees.

Wesker smirked behind the glass, very pleased. Enjoying the fight and how Steve had progressed. He would keep his promise, sure, give him Claire. But he also knew Steve was losing his memory, slowly, and soon, when he saw Claire, she would not recognize him.

And when she did….it would be too late.


End file.
